


Misunderstood

by juunnyy



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Abuse, Depression, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, whump!sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-22
Updated: 2013-08-22
Packaged: 2017-12-24 06:34:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/936554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/juunnyy/pseuds/juunnyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:</p><p> Sherlock comes home one day looking detached and extremely guilty. John notices this but doesn't say a word until about a week passes and Sherlock continues to act distant.</p><p>When he confronts Sherlock about he starts apologizing. He did something unforgivable but he couldn't help himself. When John asks, Sherlock tells him he was cheating on him. He continues to tell him that it wasn't his intention but he was unable to stop himself.</p><p>In anger, John tells Sherlock to get out of his sight. Sherlock does so, feeling he deserves this for betraying John.</p><p>It isn't until later that John finds out the whole story, either by Lestrade or Mycroft, that Sherlock had been raped/heavily molested a week ago. Sherlock feels he's cheated on John because his body responded to those advances.</p><p>whump!Sherlock, misunderstanding, h/c afterwards... Just some of the usual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

John could tell something was wrong as soon as Sherlock walked through the door. His head hung low, his eyes didn’t have that usual glint in them and his coat was hung over his arm instead of around his shoulders. John watched from his chair as Sherlock shuffled into the room and hung his coat up on the back of the door. He stood facing the door for a few more seconds than would seem normal before turning back around and heading towards the sofa.

“Are you okay?” John asked curiously, even though he’d knew Sherlock wouldn’t tell him anything even if he wasn’t okay.  
“Fine,” Was all Sherlock had to say as he lay down on the sofa, turning his back towards John and pulling his knees up to his chest. But John knew this was more than just him having a little sulk.  
“You can tell me,” John assured him, closing the newspaper he was holding and listening intently for any sign of life from him. After a few minutes of silence, John stood up from his chair and slowly made his way over to him and perching on the edge of the sofa.  
“Sherlock?” John could see the tears that had escaped from Sherlock’s eyes. He reached out and placed his hand onto Sherlock’s thigh, stroking it softly to comfort him.

But that was a bad move.

Sherlock flinched away quickly. The sudden touch of John’s hand against his body triggered something.

__

_He used all his strength to try push their demanding hands away, but they were too tough. His hands were held tightly together and pulled above his head by one of the men, as the other man straddled him to keep him from moving. He remembers the way the gritty floor felt against the thin fabric of his shirt; his coat had been pulled off him and thrown on the floor by the other side of the alleyway._

_He’d never felt so vulnerable before. Sherlock Holmes was meant to be in control of everything; but for once, he couldn't do anything about it._

__

“I’m just tired,” Sherlock snapped before curling back into himself even tighter than before. John stood up quickly, taking a deep breath before deciding it was best if he left him be.  
“Okay, I’m sorry,” John didn’t really know what he was apologising for. Although he guessed he should have known better than to disturb Sherlock when he was having one of his danger nights. But that still didn’t stop him from leaning down and giving Sherlock a soft kiss on the cheek before whispering goodnight and retreating towards the bedroom. 

Things would be better in the morning; they usually were.

Sherlock sobbed into the sofa cushions for two more hours before finally nodding off to sleep with a pounding headache.

* *

In the morning, John strolled sleepily into the living room to find Sherlock still lying on this couch, however now he had a book in his hands. 

“Good morning,” John tried to sound cheerful, hoping it would reflect back on Sherlock.  
“Morning,” Sherlock replied sombrely. John had to force himself to refrain from sighing loudly which would result in Sherlock getting more peeved off.  
“Would you like some tea?” John offered, and then jumped slightly when Sherlock suddenly shot up from the sofa and walked towards the kitchen.  
“I’ll make it,” Sherlock stated. A look of confusion plastered John’s face. “Go sit down, I’ll do it. Do you want breakfast?” 

John was alarmed and bewildered by Sherlock’s rapid enthusiasm to help.  
“Wait, hold up, It’s okay,” John reacted by placing his hands over Sherlock’s. John could feel his flatmates hands shaking beneath his own as he made him let go of the mugs.  
“Since when have you been so eager to make me tea, let alone breakfast?” John said with a hint of amusement in his voice. Sherlock’s eyes were shifting rapidly which resulted in John having to move put his hand under Sherlock’s chin in order to obtain some eye contact. However the eye contact didn’t last for long, soon enough Sherlock’s eyes were adverted sideways.  
“I’m being nice, am I not allowed to be nice?” Sherlock replied, almost sounding upset.  
“Well, yes, you are. It’s just different,” John admitted before letting go of Sherlock’s chin. 

Then before he knew it, Sherlock was out of the kitchen and into the bathroom within a blink of an eye.  
“Sher-,” John sighed as he leaned back against the kitchen counter. 

__

After an hour, Sherlock emerged from the bathroom with his dressing gown wrapped tightly around him and his errant curls dampened. John was shocked when he felt the sofa dip and his flatmate’s body lay down and spread across so his head was resting in his lap. The warmth from Sherlock’s body comforted him and he smiled as he felt him snuggle into his jumper. Sherlock still had the distant look on his face, however, this time it was accompanied by the sense of safety he felt when he clutched onto John’s familiar jumper. John ran his hand through Sherlock’s hair, twisting the curls around his fingers as he looked down and saw the corners of Sherlock’s lips weakly turn upwards. John had dealt with Sherlock’s spurts of depression many times before, and he knew how much Sherlock struggled with it. It had never been this intense before, but he would get better, he always did when John was there to help.

As John watched his boyfriend breathe, he noticed the startling redness of Sherlock’s skin.  
“Sherlock,” John regretted having to disrupt Sherlock from his peace. “Why are you so red?” John asked as he pulled Sherlock’s dressing gown aside from his chest slightly to view the uncomfortable looking skin. Sherlock’s eyes shot open and he lifted himself up from John’s lap.  
“How hard did you scrub when you showered?” John asked rhetorically as he ran his hands over Sherlock’s exposed chest.  
“It’s fine,” Sherlock dismissed John’s comments and wrapped his dressing gown back around himself. John wasn’t quite sure what else to do, he was worried about Sherlock, but there was only so much he could do before he ended up being shut off completely by him.

“Okay,” John let it go. He just wanted to have Sherlock back against him, so he shuffled down the sofa and ushered Sherlock to join him. He wrapped his arms around the man he loved and held him close, planting kisses onto his neck before nuzzling into it.

Despite only having woken up a few hours ago, due to Sherlock’s previous unsatisfying sleep and John’s worrying keeping him awake last night, they drifted off back to sleep. 

__

_His shirt was ripped open and the greedy hands forced his trousers off of him; shredding him of his dignity he’d tried so hard to keep intact. He whimpered and begged them to stop but all they did was laugh and spit at him. He gasped as one of the men wrapped his hand around his dick, toying with it._

_An overwhelming sense of guilt came over him as he began to harden. He couldn't believe his body was betraying him like this. The only person who had ever touched Sherlock there… was John. Sherlock couldn't stop thinking about how disappointed John would have been in him, he would leave if he found out what he had done; he was basically cheating on him._

_Sherlock was too succumbed into a haze of depression and exhaustion that he just gave up. The men continued to hold him tightly nevertheless. His legs were spread apart and rough fingers were pressed deep into his entrance. His eyes welled up with tears as he felt the sharp burn. His heart was thudding harshly through his chest. John had always been so careful and tender when preparing him._

_Thoughts of how other people would react if they found out about this flooded his mind. The whole of Scotland Yard would think he was a slut. They would look down on him for cheating on John, the man who loved him endlessly, the man who brought him out of a pit of depression just by being there for him, the man who never called him a freak despite all the reasons that could have supported that statement._

_He was freely crying now. He didn't try to seem strong, there was no point anymore. Sobs racked through him as he felt the pervert press his dick against him. Then, with one quick, rough thrust, he forced himself into Sherlock’s negligently prepared hole._

__

Sherlock awoke instantaneously. His forehead was sweating and his hands were shaking. He looked next to him to see John looking at him worriedly.  
“Sherlock? What happened? Are you okay?” John asked as he ran a hand over his cheek and then moved it up to his forehead to feel if he had a temperature. 

‘What happened’, those words circled around his head endlessly. The thought of the men tugging harshly on his dick and touching him in ways he only allowed John to do; the thought of how they made him come. How he couldn't control his bodily reactions and ended up spurting his load onto his stomach. He couldn't handle the guilt anymore. 

“Sherlock, what’s the matter? Please tell me, I know something’s wrong,” John wrapped his arms around his boyfriend and kissed his forehead. “What’s brought this on?” he stroked Sherlock’s arm comfortingly. Sherlock sobbed into his chest. His skin still felt sore from when he tried to scrub off the disgusting, lingering traces of the pervert’s hands over him. 

“John, I…” Sherlock stuttered between sobs. This was it; this was going to end everything he’d worked so hard to achieve. He was going to lose the one man who made him feel worth it. "I'm so sorry, I did something awful"  
"You can tell me, it's okay, I promise you can tell me anything, I'll always love you," John assured him as he looked into Sherlock's watery eyes. Sherlock gulped and then took a deep breath. “I cheated on you,” Sherlock’s voice broke at the last word.

Suddenly John’s grip on his body went slack.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John relives a special moment between him and Sherlock, and then finds a mysterious bag underneath the bed, urging him to find out more about why Sherlock cheated on him.

John felt his heart rip to shreds. He didn’t know what to say. Sherlock was the last person he’d expected this from; he was such a reserved man when it came to love. Now it felt like everything about Sherlock had been a lie, maybe it was all just put on to make John feel sorry for him. Maybe Sherlock was using him? All these thoughts flashed through John’s mind, and with each second he could feel his world crashing down even more. 

“I didn’t want too – I’m sorry, I didn’t…” Sherlock attempted to explain but was interrupted by John pushing his legs out of the way so he could stand up. Sherlock sat up on the sofa, keeping his eyes on the floor; he couldn’t bear to see the look of disappointment on John’s face.

But John wasn’t disappointed. He was angry. A large surge of animosity overcame him and his temper was rising. He clenched his fists tightly and he was sure he could feel his nails cutting into his palms. He just couldn’t comprehend how Sherlock could have done something like this to him. They were so perfect together; they saved each other from the immense darkness and depression that were their lives before they met. It took John so long to realise that he was gay and his and Sherlock’s relationship was the one thing that had kept him going, everything they had put into it was just falling to pieces. All the trust they once had was now non-existent.

“Please say something John, I’m so sorry,” Sherlock’s deep voice threw coal into the growing fire. Without an ounce of control to stop him, John grabbed the back of Sherlock’s head, hooking his hands into his curls and yanked him up from the sofa. Sherlock cried out in pain.

“I didn’t intend to!” Sherlock exclaimed as he tried to loosen John’s grip.   
“Of course you bloody did! Otherwise you wouldn’t have done it!” John hissed. It was like all the anger he felt when he was in Afghanistan was coming back to him. 

John pushed Sherlock’s head away as he let go, trying to calm himself down. He held his hands over his face and breathed deeply as Sherlock stood there with a look of utter shame and hurt on his face, with his hand rubbing over his sore head. 

“I love you John, I’m sorry, I only ever wanted you-,” Sherlock’s voice was cut off by the sharp sound of John slapping him viciously.

He fell to the ground, clutching his cheek in shock. 

The whole flat fell silent. John couldn’t believe what he’d done, but the anger still pulsed through his veins enough for him to not want to help the man on the floor.

“Get out,” John ordered bluntly. Sherlock looked up to him with glassy eyes. “Just get out of my sight,”

And with that, Sherlock scrambled up from the floor and grabbed his coat before he headed out the door. 

* *

John had spent most of the day lying on the sofa, staring at the silent TV. He couldn’t help thinking that he’d over reacted, but then he began to reason with himself. If Sherlock thought it was okay to cheat on him, then he deserved that slap. Maybe this was the final straw to their relationship. After all the messy experiments, snarky comments and downright ignorance; maybe he should’ve seen the end coming. 

He stood up from the sofa hazily. The flat was too quiet without Sherlock here and that left a pang of regret clutching onto his heart. He walked over to the bathroom and turned on the shower, leaving it on a cold setting so he could feel something other than the aching tension in his limbs. 

As he stood shivering in the freezing shower, images of him and Sherlock were hitting him like knives. Even if he closed his eyes, he could still see the moment, only a few days ago, that him and Sherlock made love right there beneath the sprinkling water. He remembered running his hands over the smooth skin of Sherlock’s back, and then holding his hands over Sherlock’s as they steadied him against the wall. He thought about Sherlock’s divine moans as he thrust into him gently.

He’d never met anyone like Sherlock, and he knew he would never again meet someone like him. But he always told himself that if a partner cheated on him, then they shouldn’t be forgiven, because if they really were sorry then they would have never done it in the first place. 

The thought of another man touching Sherlock made John begin to claw into his wrists with his nails.

__

Two days had passed before he decided he needed to get out the flat for some fresh air. He had no idea where Sherlock had gone, considering that all his belongings were still in the flat. But he figured that he couldn’t be in much danger considering Mycroft always kept a close eye on his brother.

John looked through the drawers in the bedroom to find a jumper, and settled with his usual cream woolly one. He threw on some old jeans and scavenged around for his shoes. He ended up lying on his stomach trying to shift underneath the bed in search for them. When he’d finally found them, he went to stand back up, until he noticed a carrier bag hidden away next to the side table under the bed. Out of curiosity he grabbed it and pulled it out. He had this small hint of dread, thinking it could’ve been another severed head, knowing what Sherlock was like. But instead it contained clothes. He wondered why they were thrown under the bed, until he noticed that they were the same clothes that Sherlock had been wearing the night he cheated on John. The white shirt and trousers were crumpled up in a ball, and when he emptied the bag completely he saw Sherlock’s underwear fall out as well. He felt a sense of trepidation as he noticed that the white underwear had red splotches over the rear.   
“What the…” John whispered as he furrowed his eyebrows.  
Maybe Sherlock cheated on him because he wanted more. Was John not giving him enough? Was he too tender when they made love?

As soon as he felt the anger rising again, he threw the clothes back into the bag and threw them back under the bed.

He needed to talk to Sherlock. Even if he wasn’t aiming to sort everything out and forgive him, he just wanted to know why Sherlock thought John wasn’t good enough.

There was no point calling Sherlock considering that he’d left his phone in the flat, so he dialled Lestrade’s number and waited for him to pick up.

__

“John,” Lestrade’s gruff voice answered.   
“Hi, look, have you heard anything from Sherlock? We had a bit of an arg-,” John voice was interrupted.  
“John, just come up to Scotland Yard,” John could hear an unusual hint of helplessness in his voice, “He told me not to call you, but you need to know, just come up and I’ll explain,”   
Then he hung up. John was so completely confused, but he managed to quickly put his shoes on and before he knew it he was out the door and hailing for a cab.  
However, a cab didn’t come, instead one of Mycroft’s cars did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping to get Chapter three up by the end of today. Stay tuned. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John is informed of what happened to Sherlock and immediately regrets the way he acted towards him. John tries to fix a broken Sherlock.

As John climbed into the car, he saw Mycroft. His face was the image of exhaustion and anguish. His usual strong expression was weighed down by emotions that John didn’t even think Mycroft could show. 

“What the hell is going on?” John sighed as he held his head in his hands. “Is Sherlock okay?” Mycroft’s face stiffened at the mention of his brother’s name. He didn’t say anything.  
“Mycroft!” John shouted at him, causing the older man to twitch in shock. He opened his mouth and then closed it again as if he was trying to find the words to speak.

“Were you aware of what happened, before you threw him out on the streets?” Mycroft said harshly, while looking forward out of the window. John’s mind was cloudy with disorientation, and deep down something told him he had made a huge mistake.   
“What do you mean? What happened?” John’s voice was softer now, but still not calm. Mycroft averted his eyes towards John. John could see the disappointment on his face, however it was more like he was disappointed at himself, rather than John.

It was painful for Mycroft to admit what had happened to Sherlock; by saying it out loud it would just make everything even more real. The sense of shame for himself would increase, knowing that he wasn’t able to stop it happening before it did made him feel like he failed his duty as a brother. He’d spent so long trying to protect Sherlock, and then within an instant everything was all for nothing.

“Sherlock… was raped,” Mycroft informed John, and the sound of his voice cracking was enough to made John feel extremely sorry for the older man even though they hadn’t the best of relationships.

John let out a gasp and ran his hands over his head and clutched the back of his head. He stayed like that for the rest of the short journey. He was in complete shock. He felt nauseated when he thought back to the way he treated Sherlock back at the flat.

__

Once they arrived at Scotland Yard, the two men hurried into Lestrade’s office, where John could see Sherlock laying on the sofa with a blanket draped over him. John shattered into a million pieces at the sight of the man he loved looking so vulnerable. 

Lestrade looked up from his desk and quickly stood up to usher the men outside.

“Let him sleep for now,” Lestrade said as he closed the door behind him. John couldn’t take his eyes off of Sherlock, he just wanted to run in there and hold him tight and continuously apologise to him. 

“I can’t believe… I just… He told me he cheated on me! I flipped out and oh my god, why didn’t he tell me,” John’s breathing was rapid with regret.  
“It’s okay, John, it’s not your fault,” Lestrade put his hand on his shoulder. Mycroft was standing there, unusually quiet and biting his nails as he looked through the glass.  
“He’s begged me not to take him to hospital, but we’re going to need to take him, he needs to get checked up,” he informed, “no matter how much he hates it,” he looked hopelessly towards Sherlock.

“Where did you find him?” John asked impatiently. Lestrade sighed and then gulped.

“Someone from his homeless network informed us he was with them; I guess they’re looking out for the man who always gave them enough money to not starve. I went to get him, on my own; I knew he wouldn’t want a crowd. He was wearing just his coat and a dressing gown underneath, he was freezing,” 

John tensed, knowing he was the one who kicked him out when he was wearing so little.

“He’d been doing cocaine, John,” Lestrade continued, “I just hope he’s not addicted again, he’d been doing so well,” tears were welling up in John’s eyes.  
“He was sleeping down an alleyway. He begged me to not take him to the hospital so I took him here. I asked him what had happened, and then, he told me… he said he was raped by two men a few days ago.”  
“But he- he told me he cheated on me? Why would he do that?” John’s eyes were wide.  
“He thought it meant he did. His body reacted the way he didn’t want it too when it was happening and he thought that meant he cheated on you,” Lestrade explained, “He hates himself so much right now, I just don’t know what to do,” 

“We need to get him to a hospital, right now,” John stated. He couldn’t hold back anymore, he just needed to be close to Sherlock again. He pushed the office door open and knelt down beside the sofa. 

“Sherlock,” John said softly as he stroked a hand over his face. “Wake up,”   
Sherlock’s bloodshot eyes opened and as soon as he placed his eyes on John, tears began to stream down his face. John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s weak body and held onto him, rocking him slightly.  
“I’m so sorry, I love you so much,” John said, stroking his boyfriend’s hair. “We need to get you to a hospital,” Sherlock’s eyes widened in horror and the word.   
“No, No, please!” Sherlock begged, “I don’t want to go to the hospital,” John could see his hands shaking, he was absolutely terrified at the thought of going there.  
“I’ll be with you every second, I promise, I won’t leave you,” John assured him. It was unbelievable how different Sherlock had become; he was usually so strong and was always the one telling other people what to do, rather than the other way around.

Sherlock still didn’t look convinced but nevertheless, he nodded and gripped onto John’s hand as John helped him up from the couch.

__

 

John had let Mycroft and Lestrade know that Sherlock was in safe hands, so they could both get back to work. The hospital was bland and unnerving; however Sherlock was put into a private room, all thanks to Mycroft. Sherlock was wearing his hospital gown and lying in the bed, he had dark circles under his eyes and he marks over his body that John hadn’t noticed before.

A male doctor came into the room a while after they arrived and spoke to John about the tests they were going to do to make sure Sherlock was in full health. John knew Sherlock overheard when he looked over at him and saw him with his eyes open, looking worriedly back at him. The doctor guided him outside so they wouldn’t alarm the patient.  
“Erm, I found the clothes he wore, hidden under the bed. The underwear had blood on them,” John mentioned and the doctor nodded in reply.  
“Okay we’re going to need to do an examination on him, to make sure the tearing will heal,” He informed John. “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said before heading down the corridor.

It was going to be a struggle to convince Sherlock that an examination would be for the best.

John walked back into the room and sat on the side of Sherlock’s bed and grabbed his hand.  
“I don’t want them too,” Sherlock stated. He was probably already aware of what was coming.  
“Sherlock,” John rubbed his thumb over his hand, “They just need to make sure you’re okay,” John could see Sherlock’s eyes welling up again.  
“I’m sorry,” Sherlock mumbled as drops started rolling down his cheeks.  
“No Sherlock, you don’t need to apologise, not at all,” John shushed him as he slid up the bed, closer to Sherlock and wrapped his arms around him.  
“They kept telling me that I was cheating on you because…” His broken voice trailed off.  
“It wasn’t your choice, none of it is your fault,” John tried to calm him down.

The doctor walked back into the room with some gloves and a box.  
“Are you ready? You can have more time if you want?” He asked politely. John looked down at Sherlock, and saw him shake his head.  
“It’s okay, do it now,” Sherlock replied in a small voice. 

John sat in a chair next to Sherlock’s bed with both hands clasped around Sherlock’s hand to comfort him. The doctor lifted the sheets off the bed and then put his hands on Sherlock’s knees to gently lift them up and push them aside. John could tell Sherlock was feeling insecure about being so exposed, but he continued to show him a warm smile and kiss his hand in order to make him feel better. Sherlock winced slightly as the doctor pressed against his backside. 

John felt helpless seeing the man he loves in so much pain. He couldn’t stop thinking about when he slapped him. The amount of pain he must have caused and he couldn’t imagine how Sherlock must’ve been feeling. Knowing that Sherlock had ended up reverting back to his old ways and taking cocaine again just made the wounds deeper.

By the end of the examination, Sherlock’s lips were red with the amount of biting on them he had done.   
“There are a few tears but they shall heal soon,” He told them as he pulled the gloves off his hands. Sherlock moved his legs back down before John pulled the sheet over him and tucked him in.

The doctor left the room and John’s gaze returned to Sherlock.

“They’re gonna find the people who did this to you, okay?” John told him and Sherlock nodded.  
“I’m so sorry I hit you,” John confessed, tightening his grip on Sherlock’s hands.  
“It’s okay, that’s the past now,” Sherlock reassured him. “I haven’t kissed you in ages…” Sherlock hinted. John looked up at him and smiled before standing up and pressing his lips against his boyfriend’s. It was so comforting to have the intimacy back. Sherlock opened his mouth a bit wider and slid his tongue into the kiss, and John stroked his face tenderly.  
“Sleep here tonight, please,” Sherlock pleaded as he pulled away from the kiss.   
“Of course,” John replied and took his shoes off. He climbed into the bed next to Sherlock and wrapped his arm around him. They continued kissing for a few more minutes, gently running their hands over each other’s chest before they broke apart and snuggled up against each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably one more chapter, or two, depends how the story ends up going after this.
> 
> :)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think so far. I'm still trying to get into the hang of writing again so this still may not be my best.  
> I'll have the next chapter completed soon!


End file.
